


Like or Like-Like

by strawbebbyy



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pining, Requited Love, Two Bros chilling in an attic zero feet apart cause they are gay, Uhhh Rated for language. I'd rather be safe than sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 15:53:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21211151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawbebbyy/pseuds/strawbebbyy
Summary: He knows what this feeling is, he’s not an idiot. He’s had crushes before. A crush. The thought pins him like a bug to a board. It’s not like this is new; he’s known for a while. A guy can only think about doing things like holding hands with his best friend so many times before it’s obvious something’s up.---Just two bros hanging out, nothing weird about that. Ryuji isn't helplessly pining or anything.





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**Author's Note:**

> This is just a lot of fluff. That's it. 2700 words of fluff.

The air in Leblanc's attic is warm and still. Akira is stretched out lazily across one half of the bed, like a cat in a sunbeam, only confining his urge to sprawl out completely because the other half is taken up by Ryuji's body. They'd been reading manga, seated side by side on the mattress. But the summer heat has a way of sapping away energy and making everything feel surreal - especially on a day as sweltering as today - and their attention span quickly dwindled down to nothingness. Now, manga lay forgotten on the floor, pages dog-eared for later.

Summer evenings always feel so strange - as if separated from the rest of the world - and that effect is especially prominent here, where the only noise is from the sparse foot traffic in the side streets below and the old fan whirring quietly on the opposite side of the room. Not that the fan is really doing any good, it's highest setting is still too weak to be felt from the bed. It's better than nothing, at the very least.

Stagnant air hangs over them like a blanket, suffocating, heavy, and just shy of actually being uncomfortable. Orange sunlight spills in through the dirty attic window, falling in blurry patches across the bed and the wooden floor. Briefly Akira wonders if it might help the temperature in here if they closed the window, but decides that even with the fan and the slight breeze from outside, it's already too stuffy in the room. If the air gets any more still, it might not actually be tolerable.

Next to him, Ryuji heaves a deep sigh, one arm falling over his eyes, limp as if that one breath stole away all the last dregs of energy he'd been holding onto.

“I can't believe we spent all summer dealin' with Medjed."

School does start again unfortunately soon. T-minus two days.

"Not all summer, just most of it. And besides, Futaba did most of the work."

"Like hell she did!  _ We're  _ the ones who had to handle her palace."

"But technically, she did all of the work dealing with Medjed."

"Dude, c'mon, it's too hot for you to be a smart ass." Ryuji groans.

"Do you think a heatwave is going to stop me? I'm  _ very  _ dedicated to annoying my friends, you know."

Ryuji's arm flops down to his side, hand dangling off the edge of the bed, so he can fix Akira with an exasperated look.

"If you're not having fun, you can leave." Akira's grinning like the cat that got the canary, and Ryuji almost wants to ask how he has the energy to still be sassy. The attic feels more like an oven, hasn't it turned Akira's brain to mush like it did his own?

"No way, dude. Even just thinking about moving is making me sweat."

"Gross. Don't sweat on my mattress." His tone is light as ever, so Ryuji doesn't feel bad at all that he's definitely already sweat on the mattress.

"Too late, man. Shoulda told me hours ago that this was a strict no-sweatin’ zone."

"Okay, but really shouldn't you be heading home? It's getting kinda late."

Ryuji tilts his head only slightly, peering at his friend from the corner of his eye.

"Already told you. Too hot to move. Can't I crash here?"

"Will your mom care?"

"Nah, not as long as I tell her I'm staying over. Will Boss care?"

Akira thinks about that for a minute. Would Sojiro care? His instinct is to say yes, he would care. But the more he thinks, the more he feels like he wouldn't mind. He was willing to let Yusuke stay, even though that ended up being short-lived. And despite this technically being a restaurant, he lets Morgana live here. In comparison, Ryuji crashing here for one night probably wouldn't be a big deal. Not like the Phantom Thieves aren't already in and out of Leblanc constantly, anyways.

"I don't know. Probably not."

"Good enough for me." A pause. "Do  _ you  _ care?"

"Yes, Ryuji. It's going to bother me terribly. In fact, I'm going to kick you out right now so I don't have to spend another second with you."

"Harsh but fair."

With what appears to be a great amount of effort on his part, Ryuji pulls himself into a sitting position and wrestles his phone out of his pocket. Akira watches, even though he can't see much - just Ryuji's form, hunched over as he taps away at his phone screen, yellow tanktop plastered to his back with sweat. He watches the line of his sunburnt shoulders move as he types what's presumably a message to his mom, and then he collapses back into a laying position, limbs all askew. He nearly knocks his right arm into Akira's face before wrangling it back into his own personal space, and his left arm and leg end up dangling off the bed, fingertips barely grazing the worn wooden floor.

It's quiet for a while, and if not for his phone buzzing where it's sitting on his stomach - a reply from his mom, surely - Ryuji might have fallen asleep. Holding the phone above his face and trying to type proves to be difficult using only one hand, however, and before he can get his other arm involved, his phone has slipped from his grasp. It lands on his face, knocking against the bridge of his nose with a  _ thud  _ that sounds worse than it feels - not to say it doesn't hurt.

"You didn't see that." He tries, but Akira's already laughing, the corners of his eyes crinkled happily. "Some leader, huh? Laughing when a teammate gets hurt." Ryuji shakes his head in mock disapproval.

"Oh, no, Ryuji. I didn't know you needed me to protect you from the big bad phone."

"Man, how'd you get to be leader, anyway?" He elects to ignore Akira's joke, lest he encourage him to make more jokes of a similar caliber.

"I'm the smartest."

"Nah. No offense, dude, but I think we both know Makoto's the smartest. Maybe Futaba."

"I know the most about the Metaverse." Ryuji's not looking at him, but he doesn't have to. He can hear the smile in his voice.

"You're not even tryin' to justify it now. Mona knows the most about the Metaverse - but you can't tell him I said that."

"Oh? So what if I just happened to call for him right now?"

"Dude, don't. We barely got him to go downstairs and leave us alone. If he comes back up here he's gonna harass us about getting enough sleep and you know it."

Akira sighs. "Yeah, I know." As much as he might like giving Ryuji a hard time, he also doesn't really want Morgana on his case about staying up too late  _ again _ . Besides, he's teased Ryuji enough for now.

Neither one of them really seems to have anything else to say after that. Outside, the foot traffic has diminished to almost nothing. Where before there had been warm evening sun mottled on the bed, now the soft purple glow of twilight falls in slanted, fuzzy shapes across the room. In the streets below, Akira can almost imagine he hears the streetlamps buzzing to life. He stares for a moment at the dust dancing in the fading purple light.

Ryuji watches Akira silently. He doesn't feel any need to fill the gap in conversation - usually he would, but it's not uncomfortable to sit in silence with Akira. Is that weird? Akira's not what he'd consider especially chatty, so it's pretty normal for conversations with him to trail off for a while. Maybe that's why he feels perfectly at peace, watching the thoughtful look on his friend's face and saying nothing.

Akira rolls over to face Ryuji, and is only a little surprised to find the blonde is already watching him. Ryuji, in a move that's rather bold considering he just got caught staring at his best friend, doesn't even have the good grace to avert his gaze.

Something in the atmosphere changes, shifts in a way Ryuji can't put his finger on. For just a second they hold eye contact, but Ryuji can't keep it and he has to look away, occupying his thoughts by focusing on how Akira looks, bathed in the light from outside. The rest of the room has fallen into darkness as the sun has finally gone down completely and the moonlight blends with the glow from the streetlamps, casting silvery-yellow highlights across all the highest planes of Akira's form: his shoulder, his hip, his cheek, his temple, the tip of his nose, the frames of his glasses and the subtle curls of his hair. The rest of his features are hidden in shadows of varying depth, the darkest areas inky black.

Ryuji feels the tips of his ears get warm, and wonders if there's high spots of color on his cheeks - he thinks there must be. There's a vague thought about a crush, wriggling and annoying, in the back of his mind, but he doesn't want to think about it at all. He's too tired to deal with all of that. Instead he focuses on how Akira's eyelashes fan out across his cheek when he blinks, slow and sleepy.

He becomes aware that Akira has been watching him this whole time, scrutinizing his expressions, and he hopes his own face is hidden in the shadows enough to not have been easily readable. There’s too much he’s afraid Akira will see there, written plainly on his face.

"You're kinda pretty, you know that?" He says without meaning to, mouth apparently going totally rogue. Akira's eyebrow quirks, the corner of his mouth twitching up slightly, but he doesn't say anything. Which is fine. It's fine! Except it's not fine, because the silence gives Ryuji's wayward mouth the chance to say more embarrassing shit. "Your hair looks really soft." He wants to touch Akira - his hair, or his shoulder, or his cheek. Using a great amount of restraint he stops himself, but not until his hand is already hovering awkwardly halfway between them. He hadn't even realized at first that he'd reached out at all. His whole body has just disconnected from his higher brain functions, huh?

It feels like there's something he needs to say, but he doesn't know what. Okay, well, he  _ knows  _ but wishes he didn't. It feels like it's right on the tip of his tongue anyways. That same wriggling thought he'd had before resurfaces.

"Something on your mind?" Akira finally speaks up, noticing the way Ryuji's brows have drawn together in frustration.

"Nah, I’m fine.” He shoots for casual but misses by a mile, and Akira makes a confused face at him through the dark.

"You’re a terrible liar." He offers a sympathetic smile and if Ryuji wasn’t blushing before he certainly is now.

In the following silence, Ryuji tries very hard not to focus on that nagging thought he'd had. Still, it persists. He knows what this feeling is, he’s not an idiot. He’s had crushes before.  _ A crush _ . The thought pins him like a bug to a board. It’s not like this is new; he’s known for a while. A guy can only think about doing things like holding hands with his best friend so many times before it’s obvious something’s up. (Realistically, if Ryuji could admit it to himself, he’s known since almost a month ago when he’d taken a direct hit in battle because he’d been so distracted watching the way Joker handled his dagger, all elegance and skill and sleight of hand.) He’s just been doing a great job at pretending he didn’t know - at pretending there wasn’t anything going on.

It’s usually pretty easy to push it to the back of his mind because there’s always something bigger to think about, like Medjed or Futaba’s Palace. But here, in the dark of the attic, there is nothing. No threat currently looming over them, no mission they have to complete. Just the ghost of Akira’s breath tickling his face as they lay, cramped together on the bed that’s too small for both of them.

“Hey,” he chokes out, sounding strained. Inwardly, he cringes at how alarmingly tense he seems. If his body could please reconnect with his brain so he could stop making a fool of himself, that would be  _ awesome _ .

“Yeah?”

“Uh.” He scrambles. What was he going to say? Did he have anything planned at all? It feels like there’s too many words vying to escape all at once, getting stuck in his throat and tangled on his tongue. He has to say something, he’s taking too long, Akira’s going to know something is up. “How do you feel about giraffes?" Is the best he can manage. Shit. What the hell. That’s not normal. That’s a totally bizarre thing to say. Earth to Ryuji, you’re acting super weird.

"Giraffes? Uh, they're okay I guess." Akira looks at him, brows pulled together in confusion. Of course he’s confused, that was a random as hell thing to ask. Wait! He can still save this. Didn’t Futaba tell him some awful joke the other day about giraffes?

"Yeah? What about turtleneck sweaters?"

"What? Shujin’s winter uniform includes one, right? I guess they’re fine. I don’t, like, have any beef with turtleneck sweaters."

"Ok, so, what about giraffes wearing turtleneck sweaters?"

"Why are you asking me this?"

"Futaba told me a joke about giraffes in turtlenecks and I can't stop thinking about how long the neck on the sweater would have to be." Okay. Not as good as if he could have remembered the joke, but it still worked. Nice save, Ryuji.

"That's ridiculous."

"But now you're going to think about it, too, I bet."

"Of course I am. That would be a crazy looking sweater."

Silence again. Maybe it wasn’t as great a save as he thought because now he feels just as tense and weird as he did before.

“Hey, Ryuji, I’ve got something to ask you.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s up, man?” His voice sounds a bit higher than his usual register at first, much to his mortification.

“I might just be reading things way wrong, which is why I’m asking, but would it be alright if I kissed you?”

Ryuji splutters, face burning.

“W-what?” He finally spits out, eyes wide.

“For a while now I’ve kind of suspected you might like me, so I thought it would be okay to ask. You can say no, of course. Sorry if I was way off base.” Damn Akira, he's way too perceptive. It's not fair at all.

“No! I mean, do you want to kiss me?”

"Yeah."

"Even after the giraffe thing?"

"Yes," Akira laughs. "Believe it or not, a stupid conversation isn't enough to make me not want to kiss you.”

“Oh. Lucky me, then, huh?” He offers a tiny smile, hoping Akira can’t see how flushed his cheeks are.

“Lucky you. So, can I?”

"Well, I-I mean, if stupid conversations aren't a total deal breaker and you're still interested, then yeah.”

Akira sits up, smiling warmly at Ryuji. His silhouette blocks the light filtering in through the window, leaving him backlit with the same silvery glow Ryuji had admired on his form earlier. Akira then tucks his hair out of his face and leans over, placing a tiny, barely-there kiss on the corner of Ryuji’s mouth.

“That’s it?” Ryuji asks, grinning up at him to hide his own shyness. “Lame. I thought you were gonna really lay one on me.” If his hands are clammy from nerves, well, nobody has to know.

“Maybe eventually.” Akira grins back, eyes bright with mirth. Then, more seriously, he adds “You  _ do  _ like me, though, right?”

“Yeah.” Ryuji admits, and you know what? It’s nice to admit it. He’s not embarrassed, he’s just happy.

“Good. I like you, too, you know.”

“I might’ve guessed.”

“What was your first clue?” There’s a teasing sort of lilt in his voice that makes Ryuji laugh, watching through the dark as Akira flops back down into a laying position on the mattress.

Outside, the world moves on. But to the two teens laying in the dark, stuffy attic of Leblanc, it feels like it’s come to a stop for a little while.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my Tumblr, @phantom-thieves-official


End file.
